Knocking on Your Door
by Blushing.Violet
Summary: He'd shredded her in one blow; abandoned her, and now he expected to be able to come back, five years later? And apologize? Sometimes it's easier to forgive, when that's all you've got left to save you. Seddie.
1. Chapter 1

**I****:**

_There's some things we don't talk about  
Rather do without  
And just hold the smile  
Falling in and out of love  
Ashamed and proud of  
Together all the while_

The windshield wipers droned on, as Freddie stared out the rain-flicked window. Thick, saturated cottony sheets of clouds blocked off the sun's warmth and the delicate water droplets tickled the cab's window, sliding down effortlessly as they drummed a gentle beat. His hot breath fell upon it with a blinding fog, and, hesitantly, he drew a small smiley face that lovingly begged for mutual. He sighed under his breath, gut stirring up another flash of nauseating guilt he could never put an end to. It wasn't as if the slate interior's scent of embedded smoke and stale, musty air in the car was helping any. The heavyset, Caucasian man in front tuned his radio carefully, never quite settling on the same station for long.

He couldn't end the real reason for nausea until now, if it was possible.

Rubbing his prickly sun burnt beard, the driver, about 50… eased on the petal as the taxi slurred toward the sidewalk. He reached a single hand back, expectant, and received a twenty and some spare change. Throwing the door open as the fresh, chilled air whipped against his skin, he slammed it shut carelessly and the sunshine taxi, stark against the city blanketed in grey, took off.

It was then he'd realized he was exactly one, umbrella short. He hissed angrily at his own lack of attention.

"Wait!"

The vehicle did exactly the opposite. Just to spite him. Hitting its second wind, it zipped down the empty street, slicing through water like a gleaming blade. He stared off at it for a few seconds long after it'd disappeared and scrawled his fingers through his hair briefly.

Freddie stared down the road a few moments, considering; cold fingers shoved in his pockets, then shook his head as he trotted down the puddle-laden sidewalk.

He examined the cracks that ran up the sidewalk, like narrow rivers in an urbanized jungle; as he treaded slowly towards his personalized version of death row. He'd gone over it a thousand times in his throbbing head, and each time he did they're'd be a new solution; new outcome, new way of dealing with things. Negative or positive, he hardly came up with the same thing twice.

He was coming home. And that was all that mattered, right?

Or, so he thought. He wasn't too sure, at this point.

A barrage of doubts fell upon him as he cheeks grew warm and his mouth fell silent, as if sealed. His clammy, cold-blooded hand fell against the back of his neck, rubbing it thoughtfully.

It'd been almost five years since the incident.

Cars hissed past, spraying his jeans with mottled spots of water. He ignored the cloud of swirling air that dissipated bitterly. Finding a reflection of himself, his well-beaten sneakers smacked it and hit concrete in a steady pace, chill nipping his arms through his sweatshirt as drops of the sky's tears dotted his gray hoodie.

Freddie stared heavenward for a few seconds, eyes darting curiously over the layers of rain clouds and streaks of water, wondering if the people he used to know would be as depressed to see him as the sky was.

Refocusing his attention, he crossed the street carefully and took in what the town had left to offer.

Litter piled up at sewer drains, smaller fragments pulled in with the streams of water and people walking just because, without aim, umbrellas shielding them from the light drizzle and thunder rumbling lowly in the distance. Darn, he wished he'd still had his. He hated getting wet.

He couldn't keep his mind off them. And that thought, that thought of insanity, one of somehow restoring the peace drove him away from the comfort and security of his drafty old dorm room back in Michigan.

Sure everyone there understood; they felt it beneath them to leave security and tranquility to go in angst, childishly 'find oneself' again, or that of the lives of other people. He was settled, had a career and, for the most part did himself well…

But he knew they wouldn't wait. Not for a fool like him.

But, he learned to accept it.

And then, he saw it…

More importantly, he saw _her_.

* * *

**That's all you get for now. ;) Care to review? I'm going to need at least five before I add any more so I know this story's got some interest. I -was- going to put the entire song into this, but I figured I should just leave it as is. What do you think? Let me know in your review if I should include fragments at the beginning of chapters that have them, or lace the whole song through the chapter. It's your choice, what'll it be? If you think there's anything I can improve on, let me know. I'll be glad to listen and revise the best I can.**

**P.S. I do not own anything that hasn't been previously entitled to me. xP I only own the words that make the story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**II:**

_And I'm tired of being all alone, _

_And this solitary moment makes me want to come back home_

He stopped in his tracks, stupidly gazing across the street, into the window of the Groovy Smoothie. A man with wild dreads behind the counter offered her a rack of bagels, perhaps to cheer her. She shook her head softly, picking no table in particular. She set her folded arms on the table and stared at the smoothie, sipping from a straw in an unreadable expression.

He squinted, inching closer towards the shop. Just about to step onto the street, a whizzing SUV set him straight, bloodshot eyes practically popping out of their sockets as he released his tightened breath. Freddie's stomach burned angry threats at him dare he take another step. It _was _her; he knew it, he just…

Chose not to believe it, was all…

He shook his head and continued on, cold-numbed hands stuffed in his pockets. He almost continued walking along the sidewalk, but some unknown force, whether it be some twisted form of gravity or magnetism slurred his pace as he kept looking back, sneakers sinking into the concrete as he made a 180. She looked so… different. Yeah, yeah she was different.

They say the eyes are a window into the soul. Whether this was true, Freddie had yet to debate. It was as if a sheet of fog enveloped her window, banishing; first thing came to his mind, any who tried to clear it. Something was missing…

He stared on at her, studying her; he knew all the reasons why he shouldn't and if she were to catch him she'd probably ring his neck and _banish_ him into next week. He chuckled softly to himself, though not smiling; biting his lip as he shot back to reality. The truth in the light-hearted statement sunk its fangs into him; shooting venom up his veins. What _was_ it about her? He--

The fire within her… the raging, adventurous tenacity. The thing that told you, you had an automatic restraining order of ten feet, _unless _you _wanted _to walk home with a black eye… Where? Furrowing his brows gently, he shook his head. It'd seemed as if a parasite burrowed itself into her; attacking the host, and leaving mere remnants in its wake. What'd she been reduced to? It'd left nothing but a helpless little fawn slumped in its chair, willing to do whatever and whenever with little or nothing to say about it. That's what he saw.

His frail smile faded quickly, pursing his lips to one side and shifting his weight. Exhaling, his eyes gave a fleeting look to the street and he tried crossing once more. As he attempted, an old enemy slid into the chair infront of her, blocking his view.

Freddie craned his neck to see her, and saw the fragile, lighthearted smile surrender the smoothie to him. She stared out the side window thoughtfully, though, not in his direction; head at rest on her fist and fingers tapping the table in no particular order, bored.

She drew small circles onto the table and studied the imaginary shapes carefully, looking up into her boyfriend's eyes for a moment and giving a reassuring smile here and there.

The Groovy Smoothie was hardly what it was back in the day. The glowing white paint had faded into a modest, bleeding color mottled with streaks of blackened dirt. The umbrella tables flaunted tears toward the center and sun-bleached logos watermarked them. But, with the entire Seattle area enveloped in a soft, cold gray haze, he wondered if it still stood out as nicely as it did in fair weather.

Emotions torn and ablaze in all directions, Freddie lowered his head and slowly crossed the street. He was still in the process of weighing the pros and cons, but what more could happen? He would throw up his hood, saunter in there with his back hunched in secrecy, hands hidden… the tiny bell above the door would jingle, signifying his presence, (he'd be forever grateful not to be recognized) dig out some spare change in his pocket for a smoothie he didn't want and slide into a lone booth, not even sipping.

His stomach wasn't agreeing with him on this brash little choice of his. His gut didn't like it either, and he'd been fighting a three-way argument with himself that seemed longer than the street he'd been crossing. Stretched out by the fact he was baby-stepping, incase he wanted to back out and run away home. Stupid, but practical choice.

Sam's mildly peaceful gaze spotted him within seconds; turning to blank stone; making each step harder to take. Piercing brown eyes stared back at this like a timid doe in the headlights, frozen, cutting straight through him. Her jaw dropped just a bit, eyes drifting cautiously between himself and the boy she was sitting with. Her boyfriend turned over his shoulder, following her gaze, and such terror flashed in her eyes that Freddie took off running. The nipping winds blared viciously in his ears, slapping him hundreds of times to stop running and start fighting. Heart throbbing in anger at its sudden overdrive, his hands clamped down on his knees, breath constricted; hardly wanting to think about what the brute'd do if he caught him.

Within seconds, a hot puff of breath fell upon him. Freddie's worst nightmare was officially alive.

**

* * *

**

Oooh, cliffy. xP Ya gotta love 'em. Sorry if it's short, (*cough* again *cough* xP) but the story has been going under a bit of construction. I'm trying to stretch it out just right so that there's plenty of the finished stuff for you guys, and plenty of time for me to fix some plot holes and generally patch it up. Don't know how long THAT'll take, though. *Shrugs* Am I making my chapters too short for you, or just right? Let me know; be sure to tell me in your review! I'll need seven more if you want another chapter! ...Not sure how often I should update, though. Depends on as far as I get working on filling up holes with cement. Construction hat, lol. --- ([:P


	3. Chapter 3

**III:**

_(I know everything you wanted isn't anything you have)_

_Cause I was born to tell you I love you  
And I am torn to do what I have to, to make you mine  
Stay with me tonight_

A towering force gripped his collar and held him mid-air, face-to-face as hot panting poured on him steadily.

"Who do you think you are, coming back after what you did?" He spat, evoking what would probably be the same response of the blonde in his mind.

"I can't believe you'd—"

"Jonah! Put him down!" Sam barked a few yards away, nearly stumbling over herself as she struggled to catch up. He gripped tighter for a second and let the college student drop. Her tersely agitated stare tore away from Jonah and fixed itself on him, panting furiously.

"What do you want?" Her tone was even harsher than the day that he'd last heard it. His heart began a gymnastics routine that'd have anyone in awe.

"I, I, came here to say…" He sighed, "…I'm sorry." Freddie stuttered, losing all trace of whatever practice he had. Heck, this was real. He wasn't talking to his old desk lamp anymore; and he never remembered it to reply with such sting.

His heartbeat had steadied to a low rumble that resounded through his eardrums.

"Yeah?" Her tone rose, sarcastically. This wasn't lunch-time on the blacktop, with a harmless little push and harmless little knee scrape. There were no cheap glorified band-aids to patch every stinging nerve or warm pulsing wound; or any tootsie-pops to make up for it all. This was a healing wound carefully stitching itself together, when someone had the _nerve_ to rip it open and throw salt over it.

"You really think 'sorry' is good enough?" She stared at him fixedly, nearly disgusted.

"It's gunna take _a lot _more than—"

"Get lost before I get a restraining order, or make one." Jonah threatened. Sam pulled her boyfriend back in a mild tug, as if handling a pit bull. Approaching the boy, locked in a stare-down, Freddie's head leaned back to prevent his feet from breaking free of the cement slab he'd fastened them to.

"You have no business here. Being the selfish, heartless dirt-bag that you are, I'd suggest you leave within the next _fifteen_ seconds or…" The words lodged themselves in her throat like a small, plastic choking hazard.

…Two chocolate, tentative orbs, dilated in anxiety, banged on the thick plexi-glass separating them from her. They pleaded, yelled at her in muffled and hopeless vain; desperate to have her hear at least one word they were screaming. They were growing frantic; anxious, weary, begging for the wall to be shattered so the message so unclear and all too vital all, these, years… Could be delivered.

She couldn't stand it.

"Jonah," She stated, calmly as her eyes bore holes into the glass and deciphered every inch of it. "Could you give me a moment?" She inquired, softly.

The boy, hesitant, stalked off… throwing off waves of rippling agitation in his stiffed shoulders.

Sam watched him leave for a while, focused like a lion watching a herd for movements of the young and weakened, then turned to Freddie and threw her shining eyes downcast.

She sighed exasperatedly, licking her wind-burned lips and staring at her Converse as if they were the last things on earth. She shook her head slowly.

"…Why?" She snapped, head shooting up; startling him. Her hands clenched themselves into tight fists and Freddie didn't doubt for a moment she would swing.

"…Why, what?" He quizzed stupidly.

"Why'd you come back? My life was running quite smoothly without having to see your face again—"

"Oh yeah, your boy's a real charmer. Seems like you and him have it _made_," He mocked, "considering your mother—"

"You bring up that subject again and I _swear_ you will be going home with a hole right where your nose used to be—"

"I'm sorry." He interrupted, head sinking, brows furrowed with warm concern. For who's welfare, she couldn't place.

The blazing inferno in her eyes dimmed to a warm, dying glow. Silenced, she stared at him, bewildered.

"What?"

"You were right, I, shouldn't've said anything. Sorry for troubling you…" He apologized, with an arcane gaze. "…I, guess I'll get going." Freddie finished solemnly, turning shoulder. She gripped it.

"Wait."

That word hung in the air, and, for a moment, the rain spoke for them, patting the sidewalk softy, dancing like harmless missiles from Martians around them. Twisting the tip of her sneaker into the cold mud, he stared at her over his shoulder, perplexed.

"Yeah?"

"If, you didn't come here to insult me …" She rolled her eyes, "And, preach about how horrible my life is right now…" A sad smile twitched at her lips. "Then… what _did_ you want?" She stared at him, almost indefinitely.

Eyes falling downward, "…Guilt." He mumbled.

She bit her lip, narrowed her eyes carefully & crossed her arms, studying him from an angle. "You have no guilt." She concluded, shaking her head as if regretting she wasted time getting soaked for him.

"Sam!"

"If you had guilt you wouldn't have made that stupid mistake!" She kept walking.

"Look Sam, I'm sorry. I don't know what else I should—"

"Just leave!" She barked sharply, surging her anger through the ground she pulverized. That cut him. "I don't _need_ you! I'm—"

"I've _missed _you! _Okay_?!" He shouted, ringing through the air. A low, crackling rumble emerged from the distance, and rain hissed scornfully, dousing his outburst.

As keen as he listened, he didn't hear anything close to a reply. For some reason, she halted.

"I've missed…" He licked his lips, "…I've missed… all of, you…" Her head gently sloped downwards; he stared on.

"…And, it's been eating at me… Ever since, it happened…"

Still no answer. Freddie sighed, and combed his fingers through his hair for a moment, trailing off. "Look, if you really don't want anything to do with me, I understand. I wouldn't either. But, please. Hear me out for once…"

He looked up slowly, and she was gone. He stared off into the distance, solemnly, begging.

"Please…"

"…Freddie," He turned around, quizzically. "How did you—" The blonde smiled briefly for a moment, withholding a chuckle.

"Look… You can't be here. I'm sorry. If," She drew in a long sigh. "If Hulk back there sees one more hair or hide of you, it…" She paused, drawing in a rain-chilled, silent breath. "It won't be pretty." She muttered, knawing her lip as she fiddled with her locket.

"Hey but, if you wanted to talk or something, here." She zipped her purse open, tore out a page of notepad and scrawled in chicken scratch a few random numbers, shoving it at him. "The best time is around, six-ish. Oh, and if you chicken out, it's cool. I'll just call you."

"Wait, how do you know my—"

"Gotta go," She started backing up, nodding a goodbye to him as she broke into a run.

Freddie knew from the moment he could remember his first tick bath, that girls were always just a little… off.

He examined the number, raindrops flicking it and smearing the ink and melting the paper. He stuck it in his pocket, slightly confused, but refused to get into it for now.

* * *

"I thought you hated my guts. You told me that when we were eight."

Freddie leaned back and stared at the black velvet of night, thousands of diamonds embroidered into it. He switched the receiver to the other ear and waited, listening to the sirens that echoed from down below.

A small pause followed that. "Yeah…" She trailed, softly. "But, we were fighting then."

He let his thoughts wander away from him for a moment. Back to school. Back to when everything was okay, even when they were constantly at odds. Back to when they could be in a serious argument and, shortly after a few good persistent cracks at something randomly stupid, Sam's 'I'm mad at you Benson' glower would be squirting milk out its nose and everything would be okay again.

"Freddie?"

"Huh?"

"I, thought you might've hung up." She said sheepishly. Funny, he chuckled. And right then he couldn't understand why he thought it to be so.

"Oh. …Nah, I'm still here."

"Good, cuz I ha—"

There was a fumble, then deathly abrupt silence, as his eyes grew under the cool, soft blue glow of the mobile phone.

"Sam?"

No answer.

He slowly transferred it from his ear to his eyes, as if asking for an explanation. 22:16. Just right there, in the middle of everything.

* * *

His head pulsed feverishly, like a hot wound after tasting a deep burn's bitter kiss. Sharp, knive-like streaks of pain rocketed through as if using him for a landing zone in high traffic. He cringed, worsening it, and slapped a pillow over his head; gripping it.

That, was one of the reasons he couldn't sleep; the other being God knows where, for all he knew.

…Something happened, didn't it?

Horrid situations ran through his mind, shooting a chill like lightning up his spine. He drew in a breath, heart pacing its floor restlessly. What _if _something happened to her? What if she was _dead _right now…

She could be, for all he knew.

His mind refused to console him.

It was too busy battling a great war with captured and constrictied nerves, and his heart was practically having a panic attack.

Sitting up, limbs as if every muscle within them was joining forces to keep rest at bay, he growled a sigh as he glanced over at the alarm clock. The exposure to light pierced his eyes, blurring the numbers upward. Squinting, he threw his head back against the pillow full force. This was ridiculous. She was fine. She was—

Fortunately, the pillow seemed to be very oak tonight, surging a dagger like spear of ache through the butt of his head.

Groaning, he slid down a little and rested his head on the soft cotton toward the window. Brows creased softly, eyes alert, dancing in a focused spot. Thoughtful.

If two thirds of his being wasn't going to sleep in the wee hours of the morning than neither was he. Why fight?

He never learned her address, to top it all off. Never. Even if it'd been the same all these years he'd still never gotten it.

It didn't seem like much importance at the time; she was hardly ever _there_, anyway. Carly's apartment was her second home. Quite frankly, it _was _her home. Spencer and her practically adopted the blon—

Carly.

…He'd, have to take one thing at a time. Y-yeah, he nodded, turning on his side, his back to the clock. Eyes closed for a few minutes, he popped them open & studied the hotel surroundings carefully. Maybe doing something, something boring would drowse him up. He yawned, and turned to stare at the beige ceiling, rippled with creases and blisters.

This, wasn't going to work.

He flipped on his belly, staring at the bedpost for a few seconds then burying his head into the pillow. He could scream. Heck, he could scream until his lungs ran dry and shriveled up. Amused with this idea, he tried it out.

Nothing. Like space. Like life. No response.

"Ahy, SHUT UP!"

Freddie sniggered, and flipped onto his back.

Last time he remembered, Sam'd jump at the opportunity to push his face in. She didn't make sense. Women didn't make sense. Life, all in all, didn't add up much either.

Shifting towards the clock, preoccupied with his phone on the side table, he stared at it intently. Maybe, just maybe, if he did it long enough, the thing would starting buzzing a welcomed vibrating noise, flashing like crazy, lifting his spirits.

But the longer he stared at it, the slower time went.

Snatching his phone up, he sat up and flipped it open; blue light enveloping his face.

1 New Message.

How, in the name of pantalones did it escape his notice?

"Hey, Freddie," She started, crackling remorse coating her voice.

"Look, I didn't mean to hang up on you… But, I had to. Trust me. Long story, kay? Sorry, sorry sorry!" She'd regained her sense of humor, light-hearted joy in her voice. He smiled contently.

"But, no worries. You know me," He could feel her trembling smile; tidal waves of peace and regret on the back-burner scolding him.

"I'm, I'm okay, I just… He—I," She sighed, wrestling her words. "I still love you, Freddie. Talk to you soon."

A few shuffling noises concluded before she hung up. His voicemail options quizzed him on his actions and he shut the phone silently, staring at the device as if it greedily withheld all of his answers to itself.

He couldn't move.

With three words, Sam Puckett had sent the entire world to a screeching halt, freezing his mind in motion and letting bitter, lingering resent set in. Strong enough to set in and give out free torment each day whenever it pleased. The look in her eyes, he'd snap his shut just to avoid it. He'd destroyed her. She didn't talk to him for weeks. Infact, she didn't talk much to _anyone _for weeks.

And with three more words, she had put the world into motion again. The feeling returned in his sore legs and his slurred blood flow warmed itself again, rushing through his veins. The tingling pins & needles that reduced him to nothing more than a dead weight faded, and his heart beat steadied itself painfully slowly. The sleeplessness in his eyes withered away; he could finally rest easy again. He closed his eyes steadily and chuckled to himself, echoes singing a soft reassuring lullaby.

It wasn't over.

**

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**

Ello all! I was recently going over how I was going to post the next chapter, and I figured this way worked much better. The section after this has almost nothing to do with the above, so instead of making another mini-chapter I decided to add this tidbit here for ya'll instead. Reviews are appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

**IV:**

_Near to you, I am healing_  
_But it's taking so long_  
_'Cause though he's gone_  
_It's [still] hard to move on_

Sam had never been one, to have a way with sentiments. It was… difficult, for her. Sensitivity ended with the divorce and tears died with her father. Strength regained its powerful control and thus, she saw no need for shedding salt water. It only let onto the depths of weakness dwelling in her heart, often met with the piercing jabs of scorn and hatred.

…The thing was, expressing them could do untold destruction if handled incorrectly, irreversible damage that scarred one into a swirling spiral of depression. She'd experienced it. Words hurt. Words echo in one's head and are carefully disintegrated by over-sized tweezers into the smallest molecule for meaning, for depth, for an answer. They could linger with one for years; keep reactions holding back…

You wanted to know what was wrong and you were going to have quite a battle on your hands. Few won it. Strength was the thing she almost always possessed. She had to. It was who she was and who she had to be. It was all just straightforward talk. Blunt, no depth, no start no finish. Cold.

In an ironic twist, she felt better inside. No longer bothered with false entertained hopes, her study skills improved, to say the least. Sure, teachers still screamed at her deafeningly about her life as an unpleasing failure. And students still treaded over her like a muddy jacket laid out carefully for them. He was gone; like that, still hating each other.

But inside, she was partially happy. If anyone ever said anything to her, she'd smile as if every muscle in her jaw was crying in pain.

But she smiled. And they smiled back. And Sam felt better.

_He was gone._

_Out of her life forever. _

_Never had to see his ugly mug again._

_A sense of relief washed over her, as she collapsed onto the couch; limbs skewed about like a forgotten rag doll. Throwing her head back towards the ceiling, she sighed softly; soreness from strain dripping in her throat. Her stomach was still swirling restlessly from the excitement, and somehow listening to the clock tick softly, steadily, drove her insane. She wasn't relieved._

_She was empty._

_And that made her the happiest, carefree and yet most miserable, pathetic excuse for a Puckett alive._

_She never wanted to admit it, in an oxymoron; that she'd been weak… But something contradictory in her wanted to, and yet didn't. It was a constant war with herself; to be strong and to have moments. Moments of isolation, so she could shed tears about her troubles and have no criticism, no, 'positive advice'. Because maybe she didn't want to right now…_

_Tears were scornful, hateful, betraying to the inner person. But in the same sense, these salt-saturated waters streaming from her heart told the world, that, __shoosh__ yeah, there was something under all that abrasiveness…that bold fearlessness about her… she had a heart. And emotions. Both bound up like a fire escaping in mere episodes that fled as quick as they came._

_"Sam?" A meek, almost bemused voice came, closing the apartment door behind her gently. She lifted her heavy cranium and turned to stare at the source. It was Carly._

_The brunette hung her black denim jacket, strolled past the couch and set down the sagging plastic grocery bag on the counter. Tossing her mess of keys attached to worn down plastic monkeys holding on for dear life, she sat down quietly next to the blonde. _

_Spencer trailed a few seconds after, swinging his keyring cheerily on his finger and slurring his pace at the Sam that lay like a fallen warrior. Carly prodded her for information. _

_"Uh, is this gunna be one of those girl—"_

_"Yeah, probably—"_

_"Then, I'm going"—He jabbed his finger in a random direction—"That way."_

_The brunette watched him flee up the stairs as if his ears were to implode at any unnecessary 'feeling-talk', then turned back to her best friend, setting her feet up on the edge of the coffee table and crossing her arms and tossing her head back._

_"What happened?" _

_Sam pursed her lips together, sitting up. "I got into a fight." She muttered, dark circles resting under her eyes._

_Carly sighed disappointedly, more to herself, before asking another question._

_"Was it a fist fight or a verb duel?" She sat up this time, cocking her head._

_Sam shifted uncomfortably, as if there were rocks under her seat. "Duel. I won."_

_"Well then why—"_

_"Cuz he's…" She paused; her friend nodding expectantly. Sam shot up abruptly and hurried towards the door, as if she'd forgotten her breath outside._

_"Sam get over here." Her friend called, trailing after her._

_"I can't, I just need to—"_

_Carly stood infront of the door, arms stretched out protectively of it. Sam was squinting at this point but she took it more as of a death glare._

_"I'm not letting you go until you tell me, what happened."_

_Her eyes started melting, voice crackling. "Let me go, Shay." She ordered, fiercely. "Don't make me—"_

_Carly gripped her shoulders. "Look, we promised we wouldn't keep secrets from each other, remember? Just tell me what happened. I won't be mad at you unless you __tell__ me."_

_Did she really deserve the right to know everything about her life?_

_Sam felt like a small child in the hands of an overprotective mother. She turned her head away, teeth gritted, hot tears bleeding from her face. She tore from her hold and Carly side-stepped the door, letting her leave; defeated._

_"You miss him, don't you." She said softly, as the blonde's hand clutched the chilled doorknob. She sensed hushed, shattered pain in her voice, as if reaching out for her own condolence._

_Because he was gone when they needed him most._

Sam opened her sealed eyes and listened to the silence. It was maddeningly quiet in the apartment; familiar reassurances echoed in her ear, as if to drown it out. It wasn't exactly working so much as it was making her more miserable than she already was. She threw the covers over head, panting, tearing, sweating.

She lay wondering, almost lost staring into space, about everything one could possibly think of. Night could be one's worst enemy if it wasn't used properly. It gave one time to oneself, something that was never good if you had too many things to stress over. That only prolonged sleep, and in turn kept one wide awake with entertained thoughts of hope and crushing resentments of the past. Carly; she hadn't heard from her best friend in a while. The supportive phone calls and interchanges died out as life went on.

…And, then there was him to think about...

**Hey ya'll, sorry it took me so long to update another chapter. I've been sick the past couple of days, so you all know how fun THAT is. *rolls eyes* This one has been under quite a bit of editing, and I wasn't quite sure if it was ready to go up yet. (It's one of those things where you're NEVER sure, you know?) It might be changed later on. But anyway, enjoy!**


	5. Chapter 5

**V:**

_Maybe I'm to blame  
Or maybe were the same  
But either way I can't breathe  
Either way I can't breathe_

The blonde looked around cautiously, before sitting down at the brightened table of the Groovy Smoothie. He was first to speak.

"Hey Sam."

Sam returned the gesture with a distracted smile, worry swirling in her eyes though she tried to pay as much attention as she could.

"Are you sure, we can be here?"

"Of course."

"What makes you so positive?" She quizzed, questioning his supposed authority with creased brows. She rubbed the stiff little goosebumps on her arms down and stared at him intently, studying.

"Because I've got it all taken care of." He concluded, resolute.

Her eyes narrowed, barreling through his confidence. "No, you don't."

"_Fine_." He admitted, tersely. "But maybe if you didn't act so, petrified—"

"I'm _not _petrified!" Sam defended, rubbing her arms more furiously. He cocked a single brow at her.

"Oh yeah, then what are you—"

"Cold." She butted in, looking left and then right as she slunk into her chair. "I'm, I'm just cold," She quickly lied.

"What did you want, anyway?"

"Why'd you hang up on me?"

"Is that all you're here to say?" She bit, mentally rolling her eyes.

"No. That's just for starters." Freddie folded his arms across the table, gaze blaring into her eyes. She sighed, pursing her lips off to the side.

"Because I had to." She threw out, as if testing him.

"_Why_?" He persisted.

"_Because_," Sam fired his tone back at him, as if he was denser than a doorknob. Her gaze shifted uneasily from his eyes, to the window, to the table, and then back to him again, soft.

"Oh, yeah, okay. Alright." He nodded sarcastically. "Alright." He lifted his phone to his ear, patiently.

Her cellphone started ringing, and her heart routinely skipped a few beats.

"He-llo?"

"Sup." His dark eyes bounced along with his eyebrows, cockily.

She sighed; exasperated and annoyed. "Does everything have to be a game with you, Fredward? This isn't Cluedo."

"I know." He smirked, exhaling lightly.

"Well, what do you want?"

"I … I just wanted to tell you that I feel so lousy about what happened and, oops—" He flipped his phone shut, tucking it away with a shrug and 'I haven't a clue' grin.

She clamped her teeth into her lip, reddening with pain. "It was an emergency."

His lips curled back slowly, chewing them as his head fell; feeling quite immature for having just pulled that little stunt.

"…But if you really have to know, _Mr. Nosy_…" She teased, stirring her untouched smoothie with her straw. He leaned over and sipped his, staring at the fidgeting blonde.

She stared at the table a few moments, drawing in a small breath as it hung in her throat; waiting for her. Looking up at him, she pursed her lips.

"Jonah was coming in, and, I didn't want—"

"You can't be afraid of that guy." He interjected, as Sam's eyes softened. "What happened to the girl I used to know? Back in high school? If she was here she wouldn't let some, _jerk_ like **him** push her around—"

"Listen, you don't what he's capable of," She snapped; stone-faced. He creased his brows gently.

"You don't know what I have to put up with…" She muttered in an unsettling tone, shaking her head gently. Her slitted eyes boar into his as her teeth began to grit.

"With him.** …**Every_ day_." She glared threateningly at him, brown eyes swirling with tensity.

Pulling up her blackened coat sleeve, she pointed out a large, blue-black smudge just about the size of a golf ball.

"See that? _That_ was just play. We were punching each other's arms on the way to our apartments and he gave me that. His excuse was 'I bruise too easy'." Freddie blinked, with disbelief. He stared at the mark for a while.

"You don't know what you're up against, do you?" She challenged, eyes growing wet. "And it didn't … it didn't even _have_ to be like this, you know. Maybe if you weren't such a coward—"

_Oh look who's talking. _His mind snapped, the thought leaking onto his face.

"It's not **my** fault you got up and took off when things weren't going how you wanted them." She seethed.

**"**That's _not_ why I left and you _know_ that—"

"You're such a liar. I don't even know why I'm wasting my breath on you anyway." She shot up from the table like a bullet as he followed suit.

"Oh same here Puckett. G'head, just let yourself, _sink_ into a little puddle of **misery**. See if I care. I don't even know why—"

"He was the only one I could _turn_ to, after you left." Her eyes narrowed slightly; words gnawing at his heart. "The only one who made me feel like I was actually _worth _something, after what _you_ put me through." His entire body tensed as if to retort; instead leaking into his bitter eyes as he gazed at her.

"You know, I wasn't always like this." She chortled, bitterly as streams of salt water ran erratically down her eyes. "I mean … where _else_was I gunna go? What was I supposed to do, huh Freddie? Huh?" She mocked, holding her fighting stance.

"I mean sure he's a jerk but I was a lot better off with him than—"

"Obviously he doesn't care…" Freddie muttered, head down as he shrugged a shoulder, just barely. A flash of _rage_ crashed over her like a hurricane's tempest. She viciously burned holes into his eyes he was sure he'd never recover from.

"What… did … you … just say?"

"You heard me." He shrugged, as her cold stomach sank into the depths of darkness. "If he really cared about you, would you have that bruise on your arm?" He asked her, uneasily calm.

Teeth gritted, at a loss, she shook her head in a violently dismissive manner and snatched her smoothie from the table. Her claws trembled with hot anger, digging slowly into the foam. Storming for the exit, she slammed it into the trashcan and the bell over the door sung as it would any other day; as if seeing nothing more than the mere passing of time and the events of life coming and going as they pleased.

He'd won and lost all at the same time.

Freddie sighed in more of a hiss, falling back into his chair and burying his face with his hands, as he massaged his temples irritably.

"…I realize… how much I don't deserve you anymore." He paused, as if reliving its effect. "I know I'm stupid. I'm probably the worst human being alive in your book right now…" He whispered, as if these words would bring her back.

"And, if I could, I'd take it back. I really would. I'd just," He lifted his head and jabbed the table with his finger, disheartened. "I'd hit backspace on all of this and you and I would still be okay. I'm sorry…" He sighed loudly; unrelieved. "I don't know what else, to—"

_Freddie, you're such an __**idiot**__. _His mind taunted, denunciation loosing effect. "If, you'd just let me say that to your face…" He looked up hesitantly, knowing who'd be there even before he did.

No one.

The fan blared in her ear endlessly, as she gazed at the grainy white ceiling, hazy-eyed. Staring at the bright green, blurred numbers across the room, reality returned its terror reign and an unsettling feeling fell upon her stomach. False, weakened tears were on the verge of expelling themselves and angrily, she swept them off her stinging eyes and hot face with her fist, blowing out her frustration in a heavy, short-tempered puff of air.

For every last issue that arose, Sam had always had the right answer to everything. It'd always been that way, and… She'd hope it'd stay as such.

But…

The truth she avoided for so long was now screaming at her in soft, brown-eyed concern. And it was right. And she was wrong. And there was something so, totally unexpected about that truth made her wonder where it had been, all, these years…

Or had it been there all along?

Sam pursed her lips, and picked up a nearby stuffed animal, stroking its pink, softer than velvet fur with her thumb, tears pricking her cheek.

No one ever mentioned how Freddie offered to take her to the Meat Festival that week, because her mother was out cold with a serious case of bronchitis.

Because everyone suspected something, but no one ever stopped to ask at that point.

No one even thought about, how he spend well over fifty dollars to satisfy her whims and meaty wants at that Festival, and offered to walk her home that night as midsummer's chirrups of crickets blared in their ears. This, was only a good deed.

And no one ever brought up how Mr. Piggles was the single-most thing she treasured at this point, and the only thing she held on to after she picked his locker for personal items and personally _crushed_ them with her mother's '92 model.

And _then _ran over the _rubble_ with Spencer's monster truck a week or two after the split.

Yes my friend, when you mess with a Puckett, the after-math is never anything remotely close, to **pretty.**

Because no one ever knew, and no one would ever care.

Silent tears graced her cheek; reliving the crashing, burning, and rebuilding chain of events. Squeezing the fluffy spokes-pig's droopy ear, her eyes squinted even tighter for a second and her body curled fetally on the bed. Picking up her cellphone, she tentatively dialed in a number, body aching, and whipped the phone up to her ear as the dull tone blared obnoxiously into her. Swallowing some cool, clear water to relieve the sore, crackling feeling in her throat, Sam capped it off and tossed it across the bed, carelessly.

"We need to talk."

**Hey guys. I'm really sorry about K'n's update taking so long, but the important thing now is that it's finally here, right? :) BeautifulDanger was helping me fix it up, so credit and kudos goes to her, as well. ;) I'm going to implement a few lyrics for each chapter; as far as a soundtrack goes we'll have to see about that.**


	6. Chapter 6

**VI:**

_And I don't know,_

_I could crash and burn but maybe…_

_At the end of this road I might catch a glimpse of me_

A soft blue pickup truck pulled up beside her, rumbling softly, puffing out rippling clouds of smoke as it gently settled in its spot; waiting. She thrust the door open, and stepped up, avoiding eye contact with its driver, and heaved the behemoth's door shut; watching as the sodden black street and run-down buildings tore by her eyes, halting obediently at the presence of scarlet warnings.

"Thanks." She choked, out of her closure.

"…No problem."

She gazed out the window, scanning the scenery, arm resting limply on the interior of the door. She could only imagine what results her act would heap upon her; yet thinking about the weight she'd be lifting at the same time heaved wasn't exactly sitting well with her internal guidance counselors.

She'd be making a mistake if she went through.

Regret was dripping down her throat, numbing with acidity. No way she'd pull this off.

"You okay?" He turned to stare at her, briefly. Feeling his eyes fall upon her tangled her nerves into a tight, twisted rope. Curling her lips in, she pursed them. She couldn't face him.

Was—Was she—nah, she couldn't… She _doesn't._

Does she?

…She didn't answer. A blaring horn behind them shot his eyes toward the road and curled his fingers tighter against the wheel, taking off again. Her stomach grew cold and clammy with each passing second; she knew what he wanted to do. It just wasn't legal.

She slumped into her chair, hoping to somehow melt and soak into the upholstery and never be seen again.

"Make a left up here, right?"

She nodded a few times, eyes locked on the passing shades that rushed before her eyes.

"…You haven't said much today, you know. You sure everything's alright?"

She pondered for a moment.

"No."

"What is it this time?" He sighed, half interested.

Arms folded across herself, she swallowed.

"It's… It's you."

Sam sensed the tension in the small vehicle, trying to choke her, suffocate her words. Silence, she always hated it; especially when it came to him.

"You know who took you in, right?" He stated, sharply. It was escalating, no matter what effort to reverse it he'd go up like a sparkler. She'd brazenly tread on dangerous ground. Like a minefield.

"At least I'm not a liar like that _idiot _Fredward." He snapped, "Can you _believe_he'd actually put it off on your brune friend and put you guys out on a limb like that?" He questioned, grinning smugly. I can't even _begin_to fathom how-"

"Yeah well he's a _prince_ compared to your little antics."

His hardened, glassy eyes shredded through hers, stiffly, muttering a favorite word of his. "I know how to treat people like you. I treat you just-"

"Thanks for the support," Her voice dripped with sarcasm, "I think I'm ready to let go of my training wheels, though."

"What did you say?" His voice jolted her, exposing her true stance. "Are you, saying you're going to leave or something? Pheh. Yeah, try it." He made a sharp turn, jerking her at the mercy of the truck. A light ceased his rampage.

"I will." She shot; polite stare shooting spurts of flame against the impenetrable wall of steel. "And you can stand back and watch, if you want." Sam offered, throwing the door of the car open.

By stand back she meant at least a good 30 feet or so. You know, precautionary reasons.

"What? Watch your pathetic wasted self spiral into the eye of a storm?" He snarled, "Great, I'll get some popcorn."

She burned scalding holes into him, licked with flames at his blackened burning edges. "You would, if you made enough for a living."

That was the second when she felt her entire being crash onto the chill of the sodden sidewalk, grasping her fleeted breath. Jonah stared down at her from the truck, a smirk tugging at his lips.

She stared up at him, feeling suddenly…

Inferior.

Enraged.

And, as worthless as he'd state her to be. Scrambling to her feet, heart constricted and tears mingled with the warm drizzle, he rolled down her window, and leaned over.

"I don't get dumped, Puckett." He informed, coldly. "I _dump_."

The engine hummed timidly as it pulled away, leaving her to revel in her feverish anger.

Sam huffed an agitated word or two at him, voice crackling as her hand inched all over her deadened and pain-stricken arm. She tentatively reached into her pocket, pulling out a PearPod that'd seen better days than what she had now.

"Thank God I'm finally rid of 'em." She muttered, seeking out a nearby shelter. Preferably one with accomidations.

**Gah, stupid dividers. _**

**Hey, people of earth, the Sun, and Kentucky. xP**

**I was **_**going **_**to add a flashback before this, but I just wasn't feeling it. :/ I wanted to make sure I had a Seddie update for you, whether it was this or Incentive. **_**That's **_**pretty slow right now. And this update was already done, just had to be edited. :p So, needless to say I've been out of Seddie Style for a little bit. I switch fandoms frequently; it takes more **_**oomph**_** for me to switch back to this, for some reason. Anyway, enough with the needless ranting and chewing of the ears. I'm done. :p As long as you hit the nice little button below, that is. ;) Unwritten OUT!**


	7. Chapter 7

**VII:**

_Their hands interlocked in a death-grip, her claws digging into his white knuckles as all their force clashed with each other; eyes engulfed with a fiery rage. He'd won the struggle, of course, and slammed her against the wall, pressed by her wrists. She was beyond done with this._

_"What the crap is your problem?! Didn't your mother ever hug you when you were little?!" She shouted, "I just came to pick up my stuff now let me—"_

_"Oh my mother hugged me plenty, that's less than I can say for you." He retorted, slowly. Watching her eyes narrow carefully as his words sunk in. _

_"Ya wanna know why I'm so ticked off,_ _Puckett? You think it's because you_ cried _to me each night for almost a _month_, a God-forsaken month, all bent over on how Freddie killed—"_

_"That's not_ _what—"_

_"Yeah, yeah keep lying to yourself like that! I was there. You didn't seem to think it wasn't true when he—"_

_"She _threatened_ him if he didn't hand them over—"_

_"And now you just wanna _make up_ and _forget it all happened _after your dumped your suckish _crud_ on me right?" He taunted._

_Glare._

_"You're _forgiving _him." He reminded, laced with indignancy. _

"_I_ know."

"_You make me sick!" Jonah's tone rose. "Know _that_?"_

_Sam spat in his eye. "How's that for sick you idi—__"_

_Within a split two and a half seconds she felt her face twitching with a lingering, searing pain that crept into a slow migrane. Hot, erratic streaks of water slipped under her chin and dried white. _

_She didn't fight too much after that._

"_If you're doing this," He practically hissed, "Because of that—"_

_He let a name roll forth at her, reviving her will to dying will to fight. Her arms shot themselves forward, lifting from his grasp and he slowly, against his force, let them hit the wall again._

_"And I find you making out with him," He paused, "You're gunna wish that pretty little face of yours—"_

_That's when something inside her snapped._

_Something old and something foreign; hesitant to recognize it as even a part of her anymore. It'd been ripped out of her spirit but its roots were still thriving; thick and wild, lit ablaze, a fire tended & concealed until now._

_No more than a second or two later Jonah had a long, thin scratch on his forehead. _

_She ducked around him and fled for the door, arms sore and heavy. Body chilled with panic. The blonde raced towards __Carly's apartment, footsteps echoing behind her, louder. She halted with the door slammed behind her, as she witnessed the argument that ended all she could've hoped for and that she'd been a part of._

_*--**-&**---*---**&-**--*_

"_That's so stupid. I can't believe you'd actually get upset over something like that." Freddie interjected, as she'd attempted to reply and fiddled with a stray string on the beanbag instead. He felt a twinge of guilt at her silence._

"_I mean, it was only—"_

"_Yeah 'it was only' Freddie. Just like it was only 'just to get it over with.' It's not like it meant anything, right?" The blonde quipped, bitterly._

"_Exactly." He chuckled, unaware of her tone; "So you have no reason to be jealous—"_

"_I ain't fla-dishin' jealous okay?" She snapped, "It just surprises me how selfish __you are. We weren't even together for two weeks, you up and dumped me, and somehow I still find it possible that you'd be making out with her not even a day later." His light-hearted smile faded, staring at her cautiously. _

_His eyes hardened into an advanced glare._

"_It wasn't my fault Sam. Carly told me how happy she was that I got over you and, she kinda ya know… I mean I couldn't do anything!" He blared, frustrated. "What was—"_

_"You pulled away real quick like when Melanie did that." She growled. "Because you thought it was me." _

_His eyes seemed to pull back from ramming themselves into a furnace. _

_"She told me what happened that night; all her stupid girl gossip. You didn't think I knew about that did you?" No answer._

"_She also knows about the first time it happened. Because _someone_," She paused, laced with agitation. "Can't keep their mouth shut and now it's all over the entire campus how messed up our lives are. Great work, snot-wad. And now you're off to college without a word to resolve it all. I thought you were better than that." She mocked coolly, heading out of the studio._

"_If you would've just, _shut up _and let _me_ speak for once." He growled; a small twitch infected her fists as she turned slowly to him. Freddie stood up._

"_What's there to say? How hot it feels to finally win the girl's heart you've been graveling for after four years?" She questioned, shaking her head softly, eyes heavy. "The fact that, you're God-awful happy you can just, whisk your problems away while the rest of us have to stay _behind_, and _live_ with them? There's nothing to explain. I wish _my _life was as cushy as yours—"_

"_It's not _cushy_!" He screeched, "And I don't need a she—"_

_Her hand whipped across his face before he could finish the impertinence; leaving a fresh, heated mark that faded gently beside his shock. Touching his cool fingers to it, he stared at her softly._

_Her eyes were shining; fire of war died down and the ember-singed, raw circles around her eyes were glowing brighter._

_The hatred trembled from her face; she was weak. Her eyes shook with fear of stronger backlash and she turned away, collapsing into the soft chair and huddling herself together, choking sobs, mentally urging him to go to his forsaken university and forget about them all._

_In silence he left the room; lifted his suitcase and hoped he'd never have to come back to the war-zone again. Carly noticed his sullen, void-like look and rushed upstairs where a screaming match soon followed about the string of lies he'd spew. _

"_Sam what did you—"_

Her eyes shot open, immediately sensing the cool chill resting on her face and the stickiness laden her hair and pillow. Sam panted, violently, attempting to curl her fingers on the heavy and pin-cushioned arm under her. She was alive.

And crying her eyes out in broken, softened sobs.

She hadn't realized how much she'd been doing that recently; and it bothered her to know that her younger counterpart would be either mildly confused at the sight or busting a liver watching herself wallow in a miserable illusion.

Strength came with age. Wisdom was also supposed to be some type of bonus for making it this far; but she'd had neither. Worthless.

Her scarlet-plated cell screamed Kelly Clarkson's ballads at her, nearly giving her another headache. Recovering from the startle, she gained what composure she could muster, swiped it off the side-table and flipped it open.

"It's four in the jerkin' morning. What could you possibly—"

Pause. Eyes grow to the size of dictionaries.

"Oh shut up, no way."

* * *

**Oooh, the drama. :p**

**I was originally going to give you some more, but when I was editing this chapter I noticed how perfect of a cliffy this point turned out to be. ;) So, you'll have to wait. But this one should clear some things up, hopefully. Unfortuately Freddie left a few -cough- issues unsettled when he took off. Jonah doesn't seem to be finished with her, as of yet. Yikes. I'd so hate to be her right now. :/ Let's hope things clear up soon.**


	8. Chapter 8

**VIII:**

_Maybe no one told you there is strength in your tears  
And so you fight to keep from pouring out  
But what if you unlock the gate that keeps your secret soul  
Do you think that there's enough that you would drown?  
_

The brunette juggled the phone between her shoulder and her ear, loaded with shopping bags as she stepped out of the store and treaded down the sidewalk in her black heels and overcoat; throwing her scarf over her shoulder.

"Sorry, it's like 3 over here. I kind of forgot about the whole time zone thing." She bit her lip, fighting a smirk. "Did you, take my advice yet?"

_Because that little voice had gotten her _so _far throughout it all._

Sam was about to offer a hearty 'shoosh-yeah' when her mind drifted to _him_ and her eyes studied the hotel's thick maplewood door.

"Uh… Yeah. Didn't exactly go well, though." Sam shifted a bit as she sat up and leaned against the backboard, glaring at the celing. She ran her fingers through her saturated hair as it peeled away from her neck like gecko's fingers.

"What do you mean, 'didn't go well?'" The brunette stated, slightly annoyed. "How could it '_not_ go well' I thought—"

"It just, _didn't_." She growled, "You don't even know what I--" snapping her eyes shut, Sam tethered the rising silence.

"I _mean_, sorry, I—it just made 'em angrier. You know how it goes. I say something and he—" The blonde massaged her temples. "It's my fault anyway. I guess I should've…" She trailed softly, tired.

Pause.

"Are you _listening _to me—"

"Oh my God he _punched_ you, didn't he?" It sliced through her mind this time, blackened reminder awakening and pulsing warmly with a vicious sting.

Silence.

"_Sam!_" She scolded; offended and indignant she'd hide something like this from her.

"You have _no way_ of knowing because you're not even _here!_" She taunted, biting her lip at the childish statement.

"...It was the eye, wasn't it?"

Her heart lurched as if attacked by cold, squirming leeches.

Sam touched her cool fingers to the swollen blackened skin; it stung sharply in response under the numbness and she winced just the least bit. The pause evidently was bothering the girl on the other line.

"How'd he get so ticked off?" Carly quizzed, puzzled. Not that she was _blaming_ her… The brunette bit her lip and listened for a response.

"Sam are you going to tell me or are we going to have to do this the hard way?"

"Because I took your advice." She finally said, twirling the thin black charger cord in a single free finger. "It wasn't just that he's also royally cheesed off that Freddie's back and I've been—I tried—"

Carly let out a string of unpleasant words as to where Freddie should _really_ be right about now.

"Shut up." She interceded with a hiss, surprising her own self. "Just, shut up. If you'd let go of the past—He didn't he's not a mur—Carly why—and having an escape from it is—"

The phone blared a dead tone in her ear a few decibels over legal limit. Sighing heavily, she snapped it shut and nearly chucked the device onto the nightstand; turning over and closing her eyes a few moments, only to have them pry themselves open again. He wasn't. She forced herself to believe it but the evidence laid a cold, sickening pale, before him.

**_--i---&---i--_**

_She slipped through the door cautiously into the dim kitchen, closing it behind her before turning shoulder to do a perfect double take. It was as if she was suddenly choked of oxygen. Sam's joints locked briefly as if they were on a highwire._

_Her soft eyes fell on her mother as she lay by the counter, sore legs crumbling with each footfall as her backpack slipped off her arm and crashed to her exhausted knees before her on the hardwood. __Daring to take hold of one of her limp hands and cradling it in her trembling own. _

_It was cold. _

_Silent tears were welling. Her head was pounding. Milky blur. Stinging clarity. Sickening, filthy clarity. She hated it._

_Granted, her eyes were closed. But there was still hope. There was always hope for everything. She lay her head on her mother's shoulder and nearly swore her own breathing belonged to the other._

_A tall bottle of prescription lay scattered over the counter violently, white pills various sizes, some baby pink, others a mucous yellow. That didn't explain her _wrists._ Dang it _all.

**_-o--&--o-_**

_It was a quiet late Tuesday afternoon when she returned home, after practicing for the upcoming web-show and treating her friends to Good-Burger. She felt accomplished for once. Wanted. The air was stale with heat as fluffy, overlapping grey clouds loomed overhead._

_"Where've you been, I've been calling your cell all freakin' day Sam." Jonah shot up from the doorstop, frazzled. She clutched her backpack strap and hoisted it over her shoulder again, eyes a bit wider._

_"Why, what's wrong?"She stated, minutely concerned._

**_--e--&--e--_**

Winds rustled violently through the trees, near screaming. _Wailing._

Her wetted eyes wandered around the room, lost. Faint light filtered through the curtains. The blonde's mind was alive and active and hardly found a subject to settle on for more than a few seconds. Burying her face in the pillow, she let out a muffled moan and let the twilight drag on.

Her eyes stung with sleep and hot liquid life poured through her bruise; another thing on her list of many things to take care of.

* * *

**First of all I just wanted to say that this chapter is dedicated to **sister1**0**1 and sullen**x**girl**, who have been such a great source of support through everything and are big fans of this story. Hands down. ;D You guys rock! **

**I**** know you're probably thinking: 'Darn it woman it's about time we got an update.' right? xP Yea, heheheh. Sorry all. It's been rough for writing recently. I'm so glad I have this story to work on, as it's keeping the fandom flame and writing itself alive and lit right now. I had a storm of ideas the other night so this should make some nice progress. Just to let you know, flashbacks aren't always _full_. They're scattered and broken and appear whenever I like. ;) It's up to you to piece it together.**

**Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter. I'll be editing the rest of them over time and trying to compose a soundtrack for this entire story. Any ideas/suggestions for it are highly appreciated and will be considered. UnwrittenTale OUT!**


	9. Chapter 9

**VI:**

_ My world just flip turned upside down,_

_It turns around, say what's that sound?_

_It's my heart beat, it's getting much louder._

_My heart beat, is stronger than ever..._

Love was a funny thing when it came down to what it actually meant to different people.

For her, it was something she stopped trying to define. Love was what love is and always will be, and that's the way she left it. Little time was ever devoted to defining such a vague term. In the long run, it was almost always forged.

For Freddie, it meant running for your dang life when love saw it necessary. He'd admit he wasn't coward... he was smart, was all.

So he considered it an 'intelligence' when halfway through the night his mind jolted him awake out of un-reminiscent darkness, to hear a rap against the hotel door that rattled its surface as well as his lungs.

He lay there, eyes glazed with a stinging sensation, wondering if he should bother getting up or not. Throwing the heavy comforter off, he ruffled his miffed, deranged hair and padded over in his olive green, tartan boxers to peer through the glass hole, lazily.

A tall, gangly man dressed in a thin black leather coat and jeans jingled his keys absently, dark circles resting under his hateful eyes. A scar on his forehead, dried and reddened, healing pitifully, sat proudly on his indifferent mug. He knocked again, a bit firmer as the door rattled again; Freddie stood there with shock.

"Sam I know you're in there." He called coolly, as if a bit inebriated. "Open up it's me." This request was followed by slightly nasty language that promised a threat if his orders weren't obliged. Freddie winced and tore his eyes off the spy hole, staring at the weathered carpeting as his heart pounded steadily. Definitely under influence of something. Pause. Undeniable mutterings then-

A thunderous, sickening thud collided with the door. He felt his stomach sink, swivel coldly and intertwine with his other insides.

"I'll break this door down right now. Don't try me the receptionist said you were here." He stated, riddled with bitterness. Freddie sighed openly, catching himself halfway and mentally beat himself for doing so. Jonah seemed to halt for that moment, considering, pondering his next move. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he glared at the door for what seemed an age.

"Fine have it your way," The boy offered with curt, inwardly seethed.

"Just have you know I'll be back tomorrow… and this door's comin' down—"

"What you think you're doin' at my door, you sorry delinquent? Get out of here before I whoop you good n' red." Freddie grunted hoarsely, trying to imitate a former voice that he'd deemed a savior as he'd thought of it. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips; officially awakened by the sudden turn he'd taken.

Perhaps puzzled, Jonah took a small step away from the door and ran his fingers threw his hair. Shaking his head with irritable muttered curses, he paused before battering the door with a final, rumbling thwack of his shoulder.

"I know you're here too Fredhead. I'll get you for that, don't you worry." He called, patting the solid wood surface of the door with finality as if his prey was sealed in its cage for storage. Boots echoed on the downtrodden carpet through the hall.

Freddie must've stood there, mentally unprepared for the impact and overall stunned for a good six minutes before sensing a jolting chill rise up his arms to his shoulders, raising his pores. Nails digging into his scalp, he inhaled. It hit him.

Diving for the large queen size again, he stretched over the side by the end table and dug his phone out of his tattered and worn Ridgeway duffel bag, holding in '3' as urgent blue light cooled his senses.

"God, does no-one respect the fact that all _normal_ human beings on this side of the hemisphere should be well enough _sleeping _right now?"

"I'm _sorry_, Sam. Sorry." He stated softly, cupping his hand to the phone. "It's really freaky. I just fell asleep when—"

"As you _should _be—"

"Stop it." He spat, against her biting sarcasm. It put it to rest. "Jonah thinks you're here because not even _ten minutes_ ago he was banging on the door—"

The silence on the other end grew so thick it was _deafening _in Freddie's ears.

"Sam? What the heck? Are, are you listening to me? Jonah's after—"

"You." She mused quietly as if caught in another world, finishing his sentence. Her legs became cool deadweights as she stared at the ceiling, crickets chirruping to their own tempo.

"Me. He's after me. I'm, I'm such an idiot." Her tone was almost awe, if you could call it that. Biting, bitter acid stained her throat and for the second time that night she broke her young promise.

"I'm... I'm sorry..." Freddie heard stifled, deadened sobs from her line. It sickened him realizing how worn she sounded; either speaking airily to him or scolding herself quietly. Sam enveloped her pillow in a hug and snuggled her tearing face into it, drawing in a small breath.

"It's all my fault Freddie, I shouldn't've went back at him like that and now he's out for our heads because I had to be such a—"

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa shh, shhh." He stopped her pre-leak of degradable words. "Sam..." He stated, a bit incredulous that she was openly crying, over the phone. A quiet laugh betrayed him.

Crying at all was... Progress he strangely wanted to call it. "Chill. We'll fix this. Just—"

"Don't tell me to _chill!_" She shouted, "We're screwed. We're all, practically screwed—"

"No, we're not—"

"What makes you so sure?" Sam yelled, over the line. A pensive silence followed that.

For a moment…

"…Because, I'm not going to let it go on like this." He answered, strongly. "I'll-I'll find the answer. And we'll be laughing about it one day. Know why?"

She offered him the most 'positive, reassuring' silence she could muster.

"…No seriously Sam, tell me why. Cuz as far as I see it you're right. We'll be either dead… or in mental institutions by next _week_." He offered light-heartedly. This earned him a chuckle that forced its way past the hurt. Sam drew in a light breath, and paused for a moment.

"Why are we doing this?" She inquired, genuine and gentle as if the thought had just occurred to her.

"Doing what?"

"Calling each other at—" She slid her head lazily towards the clock.

"3:17 in the morning," Oddly she heard an echo and a joyful laugh that followed. "Just to talk about issues we can't—"

"Can."

"Can't."

"_Can_."

"Resolve." She finished, sending her eyes briefly heavenward. "It's pointless, right? I mean, who does this?"Sam shifted for a moment to get the blood flowing in one of her sleeping arms.

Freddie pondered for a moment.

"I think it's typical of people in love..." He mused, unsure of his own self.

* * *

**Okay guys, so here's an update for ya. :D**

**I've just started working on the next chapter, so I figured I could let this loose for now because fall-back material is coming. It's making progress, but it hasn't been exactly quick. Meh. At least I'm establishing rhythm again. Thank goodness for Secondhand Serenade. =3**

**Anyway.**

**It's late; my brain is shutting down. Hope you all enjoy, n' stuff. I'll probably edit this A/N later. xP So, good night.**


	10. Chapter 10

**X:**

_I don't wanna be the girl that has to fill the silence_  
_The quiet scares me 'cause it screams the truth_  
_Please don't tell me that we had that conversation_

Love.

She clutched the wireless in her cold grip, fingering the phone over thoughtfully as she exhaled. Pursing her lips, she closed her eyes a moment and reflexively shot them open, an adrenal river flowing up her body and catching her breath in her heart. All it ever was was fear and anxiety, caution and waiting. She hoped once day her body would realize it needed to start _acting._

Or better yet, that of her mind.

For once all she needed in the world needed was a pure aspect of silence. No ambiance drowning her thoughts.

..._Right._ She needed them to scream at her recounting every event in her entire life as a failure. Forever unforgiven by the tempest soul.

Leaning her head against the door, shifting gently to adjust her aching spine, the blonde tilted her head to rest against a shoulder that wasn't there. Another reflex, useless at best. She adjusted once more and gazed at the phone before her, as if all-out full attention would recompense an action. Moments later it blared; angrily she lifted it with her stiffened fingers and sharpened nails and tossed it halfway across the room as it slid on hardwood by the base of the couch.

Still ringing, still energetically positive as ever, and now thoroughly agitated under the lighthearted tone it fell dead in its requests. 1 missed call.

It was him; it had to be. No sooner had a vehicle door slammed had all the alerts in her mind fired on; scrambling to her feet.

It was a beautiful 5AM, closer to six, nearly; pitch black and cool-winded soft, brief roars of mild drizzles taunted her outside the window.

Rhythmic steps, heavy footfalls in saturated sneakers, and a timid round of knocks. Relief glazed her pale appearance, pulsing heart; she creased the door open, squeezing just enough room to nuzzle her face in-between.

With a sheepish smile he stood there, hands stuffed in his pockets and posture looking _better_ than it ever had. She eyed him, almost as a doe would, blinking once or twice.

The door creaked open a bit more, and she slipped out; shutting most of it swiftly, but letting it close with utmost care. Sam sighed almost unconsciously, licked her lips, and met his eyes. His dark, brown ones.

"Come on," He whispered, twitching a smirk. "We're going."

"Where to?" She quizzed, already following as she angled her head to the side, almost letting it fall that way.

He stopped and whirled around as she bumped into him, backing up a little. His mouth opened widely as if thousands of words were to spill out. All that followed was a hesitant, uneasy exhale.

Freddie's hand flew over his spiked hair and massaged it briefly, elbow jutting freely in the air. He shook his head, more to himself, and continued sauntering back to the truck. Sam trailed along; anywhere but here.

Street-lights cast an amber glow over the area, crickets lulled by their own charming song. Raindrops fell like silent tears from the sky under glare of light; no longer congealed by darkness of previous hour. A shiver ran across her as she recalled she'd been in her lounge-wear; a graphic short-sleeve tee and sweats. Freakin' Converse nonetheless. Waterlogged socks were _always _so much fun.

"Cold?" Came his voice, feet ahead. She yawned & gave a halfhearted reply; studying the mere puddles that clicked when she stepped in them. Had he looked back he'd have seen her answer, but by then he had the first sleeve off and was in the process of handing it to her. She'd said yes, though. How selfish.

Although she didn't have a problem shrugging her shoulders into the over-sized, fleece hoodie. Peering ahead she studied him a moment, his light-blue pick-up coming into view a few spaces away.

"What gives?" She couldn't help but choke back a small chuckle, throwing the hood up.

"Parking does," He replied playfully, smiling gingerly over his shoulder to her. Unlocking the behemoth and stepping up to step in, he drew in a thin, airy breath, holding it for a second before speaking. Their eyes met across the seats before climbing in.

"I got a phone-call..." He trailed, hoisting himself into the driver's seat. She followed in the passenger's, questioning without words as her eyes fell on him. Freddie's eyes met hers and shifted back to the ignition, sending a trail of low rumbles and heated smoke into the area.

"From?" She quipped, perhaps thinking he'd 'forgotten' to finish. He leaned back almost stiffly as the material adjusted to him, both hands loosely on the wheel. He closed his eyes a moment, as if he had to imagine it.

"Someone who's, not, important anymore." He knelt his head and turned to her curiously, pulling out of the spot and cruising down the sodden road.

Her smile she didn't know she was holding, or be it more of a demeanor, faded languidly.

"Just, someone from back in college." He assured cockily, shrugging it off asking her relief again.

"They kind of wondered how, things went, and despite what I said," He sighed, "They were still insistent on coming, so..." Freddie shrugged a single shoulder, muscles like weights surrendered to pins and needles.

Silence.

"Your boyfriend's been moving around again; he's looking for you, I think." Hardly what was meant as a tease.

His eyes fell on the dash-board, prefixed on the speed-o-meter. Glancing back up the bellowing vehicle had now started to grow higher in pitch; approaching 70's on a decent highway. Her head rested against the chilled window, eyes dancing carefully over her sneakers as if dodging bullets in between. She stuffed her icy palms into the sleeves, coolness meeting with the warmth of her arms.

"I figured it'd be best if we were out of harm's way."

_Or you were._

She blinked softly, giving a gentle yawn that fogged the cool, wet glass. Turning her head towards him she smiled, soberly. He turned his head oft, half-knowingly. She shook her head, still smiling.

* * *

**So, just about everything worked against me getting this up today. I don't know why. First the Internet's down for an hour and a half, then Fanfiction decides to be a witch and reset my -entire- editing session, most of which had to be restored by short-term memory alone, then it just gets late and my mind partially shuts down. To top it all off the Bold, Center & Underline malfunction. Gaaahhffff.**

**Most of this was already written, but it just needed a few last minute edits before it went up. This chapter would've been extended, but I felt this was long enough as it was. 11-30-10 Looks too perfect to pass. And plus, I'd like to have this finished before January 1st.**

**-Cough- **

**No promises, though. I still think it has 3-5 more chapters left to it.  
**

**I apologize greatly for the wait, but school has this habit of overwhelming itself and it's victims. :) ~ I hope this chapter is sufficient for you guys, while I work on writing the rest of it, somewhere.**


	11. Chapter 11

**IX:**

The truck's door slammed shut with an abrupt thud; jolting her awake.

Eyes glazed, the achromatic spotlights of the gas station spilled over the vehicle, stark silence allowing her to gather her thoughts.

He wasn't here.

Yawning, eyes licked with exhaustion, she sat herself up a bit more and offered a passing glance to the glowing numbers on her cell.

4:37AM

Flipping it open, swallowed by its light, a thought crossed her for a moment and smiling gently, finished the deed, she tossed it back on the control panel, contented.

Within a matter of three seconds it vibrated, and she snickered, answering sprightly.

"Hey,"

"What kind of, crazy person texts their friends at four in the morning?"She was irate, but often she was when it came to antics. Or favors, or pestering.

"What kind of friend is _awake _enough to answer that text?" Sam fires back, smiling in the smallest bit.

Carly pauses for a moment.

She can almost feel her crossing her arms, tightly.

"I've had things on my mind..." She excuses, whipping it around. "Where are you, anyway?"

Everything is more amusing after a certain point.

"Ran away," Sam replies cheerily, choking it out with a yawn.

"You _what._"

"'Lax, Carls." She fights the yawning fit, sitting up again. "I've got company."

"The good kind... " She responds, deliberate. Something of expectant.

A toothy grin crawls along her features, evaporating in a breath of a laugh.

"He's in the middle, we're dead but we're enjoying it anyway."

"Where _are _you?" She prods.

Sam pauses a moment.

"Some, run-down gas station in... Utah, I think."

"_Wh_y?" Her friend adds, quickly. Leaning forward. "You think this is funny, don't you?"

Sam blinks, for a second. Ice.

_slam._

cra_sh._

bleed.

shake. pain.

_blurr._

eyes burn hotly into hers.

fights, grit and nail.

ending in-

"Sam?"

"You don't seem to fully get it, either." She responds, crisply.

"You've got me sick over here." The brune disputes, even.

"Well_ stay over there_. I'm done with this."

She flips it shut, blowing a sigh. Dropping it onto the control desk, with finality.

Sam gazes at it, after a moment.

Chewing her lip, as it lies listless. Part of her is tempted to pick it up again.

Minutes roll by like hours.

It vibrates this time, rattling as it shudders across its resting place. Her heart sinks.

"Yea?"

"Your voice was all I needed to hear." It's dark, raspy, filled with crack. Weathered tear. "I'm on my way, sugar."

His breath is the last thing she hears before her thoughts ravage into shell-shock.

She doesn't close the phone, but he hangs up.

It takes the operator to snap her to wits.

Half of her wants to snap the device in two.

Gazing at it sternly, the battery goes out with short-lived vigor. She leans back with something of relief. Knots still thickening in her soul.

_She hadn't thought in the least to lock it, or at the moment hadn't cared._

Slinking in her seat, the ambiance was enchanting. The light of the lamp-post caught within her eye, and taking a double-take of a motionless glance his eyes reflected back into hers.

Voices. Gathering.

It came to her as a win-lose. She froze, eyes level with the dashboard, everything scrolling chaotic in mindset from sitting taller as an older threat or merely vanishing from their eyes.

Approach. Spilling in from alleys, maybe at least six of them.

Maybe less. Her grip tightened on the keys, wide-eyed.

It wasn't until a swift _thunk _made contact with the driver's door that she flinched and her heart started racing. Head pulsing with a sinking warmth, blood chilling in her veins as another collision rattled the car.

More playful yelling. Casualty.

It was like being in the den of lions. With plexiglass.

_Shatter. _Shards.

She shields with her arm, borne against the open air crawling freely over her skin.

Not a prick.

"_Hey._"

Not a threshold of consequences to be met.

Glass crunches and settles. She can feel him, eyes sealed shut.

"Pay me the time of day and be happy I didn't kill you."

She throws him a stifled glance, not a single breath in minutes. He spits, leans in and folds his arms over the empty window adjacent. Chewing something. She wants to say gum.

"Step out of the car?" It's a brief question, and the slow glare she shoots him only serves to humor him further.

"You're fussy then," He concludes, "Thought since we're this far you'd be a bit more cooperative. Whether or not you're in there, you're still cornered."

An open-mouth smirk tugs at his lips, leaning back his gaze and basking in pride. She gently adverts her gaze again. He comes around to her side and pounds the window briefly.

Grimacing, she snatches her hoodie and slides it on, easing to turn the ignition.

She reels as another flies to her wrist through the open hatch, as she jerks it, thanking her for the gift and with a sickened grin, begins rifling through them for the door.

His grin soon slurs when he realizes he's left with half of what should be.

"Pull her out," The other orders, and at this she dashes towards the back.

His grip lands her, and with whatever she has it's a violent tug of war until she's flown to her feet for another war and a glint in the distance.

_Hope._

It's a jolt and a sultry, dampened layer of coldness coating her neck as her eyes peel open after a moment and silence is restored again.

Massaging her eyes, she inhales toxic, pauses, and never quite makes it farther than that.

The pump latches, closes, and Freddie slides in, turning the ignition. Glancing at her briefly. Then again. Leaning his arm against the back as he pulls out, stealing glances at her.

"Sam, you're white."

"Thank you for being observant." She spits.

"_No, _I mean you're _pale-_"

"What of it, Benson. I took a nap. What took you so long, anyway?"

Wordlessly, eyes ahead as he pulls towards the interstate, he lifts a bag of crinkling, torn open Twizzlers and offers it to her. As much as she debates, she slips one out.

"Stopped for something. It's getting rough," He adds, stifling a yawn.

"Want me to drive...?"

Still not meeting her eyes, he pulls out right and with gusto in the motor, takes off into the stream, the steady flow of traffic.

"Now how would you be able to do that if you don't even know where we're headed?"

"What if you _told _me where we're headed." She dead-pans, bouncing her brows. He shifts, merging lanes. A steady mist takes hold as the windows hum themselves upwards. Flecking the glass.

"Somewhere," He finally answers, sure of himself. "Just, anywhere were _he _isn't."

"Can we stop for breakfast then?"

The eagerness in her tone is faded, but the interest is there. She wins a smile.

"Later on, sure."

* * *

**Wow, thought this was dead, huh? ;P**

**It's amazing what a free-write can do for you. You start out trying for one thing, it molds into the next. This chapter was written in stages over a period of months, but the last half of it (dream sequence and on. No, that was not Jonah. But he was here.) hit me tonight so I figured I'd go with it.**

**Give me a good slap for a Seddie fan and being unaware of all that's been going on. :c I owe the simple fact of _knowing _to a good friend, and what I caught through snippets it looks like a lot. Yet-Curse you Dan, again. For breaking our hearts, again.**

**It's three-am. Quarter after three as I finish. I wrote this in about two hours with an extra to prep. At these hours, I am completely useless. Why do I always write at-This doesn't even make sense I'm not coherent. What is this I, I don't even. **

**It'll have errors. I'll fix them. Later on, when I sleep.**


End file.
